


A Stressful Day

by Anonymous



Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, Implied Stalking, Implied threat of violence (by which I mean Miranda's got her knife), Masturbation Interruptus, Non-Consensual Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You've had a stressful month at work and make a poor decision.  Miranda watches.
Relationships: Miranda Croft/You
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	A Stressful Day

**Author's Note:**

> Miranda and that damn knife + Actual stress from my actual job + Memories of exploits from my younger days = This absolutely self-indulgent, inexcusable porn.

“So how many more of these do we need to send out?”

“Um… 17 associations at around 50 people each?”

With a deep sigh, and feeling your stress build, you shook your head.Why did this happen every year?Everyone in your office knew these mailers needed to be sent out and they always procrastinated actually getting them to you.Sure, there were apologies, and sometimes help, and always promises to “never do it again”, but the cycle repeated itself like clockwork every year.

Knowing you didn’t have time to cry or feel sorry for yourself, you wrote up a quick to-do list for the next day, so you could try to get as much done as possible.Then, grabbing your bag and your coat, you made your way to the car so you could get home, have a glass of wine and maybe try out the new toy you’d ordered a few weeks ago.Once you’d seen the delivery notification on your phone, you hadn’t been able to get it out of your mind and were really looking forward to the stress relief a good orgasm could bring.

Unfortunately, your stress only continued to build on the way home.Traffic had been _awful_ , making your normally short commute take three times as long, and when you did arrive back to the house you shared with 3 other people, you found them all arguing about pizza and whether pineapple was an acceptable topping.Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the special bottle of wine, a vintage Pinot Noir you’d been saving for either a really good (or really bad) day, a glass, and made your way to your room.You knew you should eat but your stress was peaking and if you didn’t get it under control you knew you’d never be able to eat anyway.

Entering your room, you reached for your phone to turn on the lights… only to realize you didn’t have it with you.You realized you knew exactly where it was - on your desk at work, where you had been charging it during the day.Sinking to the bed and burying your face in your hands, you felt the tears start to well up.Shaking your head quickly, you snapped yourself out of it, sighed a quiet curse to yourself, and stood back up, leaving the wine.As you were stalking back out the door you yelled “ **IT DOES BELONG ON PIZZA, END OF DISCUSSION** ” leaving your shocked housemates in your wake.Slamming the front door behind you, you made your way to the car, got in, and made your way back to work.

Letting yourself in and making your way to one of the top floors of the skyscraper you worked in, you unlocked the door to the office and made your way through the front to your office.By the looks of things, the cleaning crew had already come through since your garbage and recycling were bare.Sinking into your chair, you took a moment to try and think how you were going to apologize to your housemates for your outburst.As you were thinking, your phone screen lit up with an app notification, and the delivery notification for your toy caught your eye again.

Normally, you would _never_ think of doing what you were thinking of doing but… well, there wasn’t anyone else around, as you confirmed after sticking your head out of your door and looking for any signs of light in the rest of the office.Finding none, you stepped back into your office, closed the door so you wouldn’t be visible to anyone passing by the large glass window that looked into the main office (and, by consequence, into **your** office) you shrugged your cardigan off and undid the buttons on your shirt, exposing your chest to the dim light streaming in from outside.Running your hands over your breasts, you tweaked your nipples through the lace of your bra.

After a few minutes of languidly exploring your own body, you undid your slacks and lifted yourself out of the chair enough to slide them off your legs.Slipping one leg out of the pants, you rested it on the edge of the desk to open yourself up, letting your fingers slip between your folds to see how wet you were.You were utterly unsurprised to find yourself absolutely soaked, and started running a finger lazily around your clit.

Letting out a pleased hum, you continued for a few more minutes before deciding to plunge a few fingers inside yourself.With an embarrassingly loud squelch you were somewhat glad no one else had been present to hear, you started to pump the fingers in and out, letting your eyes close and your head hit the back of the chair with a soft thump.

You heard a soft chuckle from the door and your eyes flew open, hoping it had just been a figment of your imagination.Unfortunately for you, there was actually a woman standing in the doorway of your office, dressed in dark clothing with her very, very blue eyes staring directly between your legs and then up to your increasingly flushed face.

Jumping up with a speed you never thought you would have been able to manage, you tried in vain to cover yourself up, apologizing profusely for your transgression.After letting you flounder for far longer than was necessary, she finally spoke: “Don’t stop on my behalf, darlin’”.You hadn’t been expecting the Scottish lilt but then again, you hadn’t been expecting to see anyone either.

“Really, though. Don’t. Stop.” she commanded from the doorway, and it was then you noticed the knife she was opening and closing with the hand that wasn’t propped up against the doorway (and also conveniently blocking your chance at escape).You had heard stories previously of a woman who had been fired from the company you were now working for (for threatening the owner and destroying a bank of computers), and you realized with a start that this very well must be her - Miranda.Seeing the fluid ease with which she was opening and closing the knife, you decided it was probably for the best to just do what she wanted and hopefully make it out of this alive.

Sitting back down, and resuming your previous position, you pushed your shaking fingers back into yourself, tentatively moving them in and out again.As scared as you were, you were surprised at just how much more sensitive you were now.You had always liked a little danger but was cursing your body for being turned on while you were in _actual_ danger.

Staring at you like a wolf at a rabbit, you heard her quietly, but forcefully, say “Add another one.”It took you a second to register the meaning of her words, your mind running simultaneously at the speed of light and slower than molasses.Adding a third finger as you'd been commanded, you felt your cheeks burn at the shame of being so exposed.Not only was she watching you masturbate at your own desk, she was standing in position to see how stretched open you were and how wet you must be and _oh god-_

Feeling yourself heat up, moans escaping your lips, you added a fourth finger as the mystery woman - no, Miranda - chuckled darkly.“You’re not shy at all, are you darlin’? You _like_ having an audience, don’t you?”All you could do was whine in response as you felt your walls stretch and burn around your four fingers as you released even more arousal realizing you were one finger away from _fisting yourself_ in front of this woman you’d never even met before tonight.

The thought was too much for your psyche to handle and you found yourself reaching your orgasm with little warning.Bucking and jerking in the chair as you let out a (shockingly, to yourself) loud cry, you slumped in the chair, panting and trying to catch your breath.After a moment you gingerly removed your fingers from your cunt, fearing that you had leaked onto the chair and praying to the universe that you hadn’t. You didn't know how you could ever explain that one to the cleaners...

Hearing a soft hum from the doorway, you remembered Miranda was still there.She grabbed a file she had set down on the filing cabinet outside your office door - _your personnel file_ \- and watched in shock as she spoke one last time before making her exit.

“Well, that was certainly some unexpected entertainment.Oh, and (Y/N)?Enjoy that bottle of wine and your new toy when you get back home.I can’t wait to see how much you enjoy it.”


End file.
